One Last Time
by jamiepage19
Summary: Christine reflects on her decision to leave with Raoul, wondering if perhaps she is wrong to abandon Erik. As she sorts out her feelings, will she discover a deep and passionate love, or intense fear? Eventually E/C
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I started this story as a oneshot. Depending on the response, I might turn it into a longer story. Please read and review! ~J

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What have I done?

I have betrayed my mentor, my teacher. The one person who took my soul when it was at its lowest point, when I was ready to give up on my pitiful career and abandon hope altogether, and made it sing with his. He took my voice, transcending all barriers – even those I imposed upon myself after my father died – until I rose, like a phoenix from the ashes to enjoy a wonderful success on the stage of the Paris Opera House.

I have betrayed my Angel of Music.

I have betrayed Erik.

Only a few hours have passed since I confided my secret to Raoul. Already I am consumed with guilt at my transgression. I knew it was a mistake to tell him about Erik. I knew it as soon as the words left my mouth. But being under the expansive sky on the roof of the opera house, with so many twinkling stars and no one around to hear, lent to the night a magical air that instantly made me feel more at ease. Before I knew what was happening, I had blurted out everything from first hearing the Angel of Music to my days spent with Erik five levels below the ground in his house on the lake.

His boyish grin faded and those brilliant blue eyes narrowed in concern. At once his arms wrapped me in a protective embrace. I let him hold me, shamelessly taking the comfort I so desperately needed, while he whispered in my ear all the reasons he loved me. When he kissed me, I made no attempt to stop him. I longed for the security he offered, where I would never have to worry about what he might do if he was ever angered. Wrapped safely in the cocoon of his arms, I didn't protest when he begged me to let him take me away. I buried my face in his chest and tearfully agreed.

But now the spell is broken and I am alone in my dressing room once again. The mirror looms ominously before me, a silent witness to the turmoil that I'm now experiencing.

Right now Erik is probably seated at his organ, engrossed in his music and blissfully unaware of my plans for after the performance tomorrow night. I managed to persuade Raoul to let me sing for Erik one last time, as a way to say goodbye. I know it is spineless of me to run away, but I can't bear the thought of confronting him with my decision and seeing him cry at my feet, begging me to stay and professing his love. So tomorrow after I sing, I shall meet Raoul in the rotunda and he will escort me to his carriage. We will leave the city of Paris behind, along with the opera house, and begin our lives somewhere far away from here.

I've tried to convince myself that I'm making the right decision. I will be happy with Raoul. He can provide the kind of safe, loving atmosphere that will be best for me.

Thinking of Erik only brings the familiar sting of tears back to my eyes. My mind struggles, trying to comprehend why it is not easier for me to simply up and leave with Raoul. Perhaps it is because of the connection I feel with Erik when I sing. His beautiful voice holds a power over me that I do not understand, even to this day. It can be sweet and infinitely seductive, and when he sings I would follow him almost anywhere. But it can also be volatile and terribly frightening, as can the man. He has such a violent temper and his face – oh God forgive me, he does not deserve my cowardice – but I can't get past seeing that awful face twisted in pain and anger. It is a horrible sight that I will not forget until the day I die. And yet, he can also be gentle, exhibiting endless patience and tenderness, almost making me forget about his deformity. Almost.

These past three months I've felt like a feather blowing in the wind, tossed about, helplessly out of control. All I want is for it to stop. The only way I know how to do that is to go away with Raoul.

The opera house has grown quiet around me, the patrons long since retired to their comfortable homes. There is a heaviness in my chest as I look at the mirror, knowing that this will be the last time I gaze upon it alone. Raoul will not leave my side tomorrow, the only exception being when I take the stage to sing.

With great effort I got to my feet and shrugged on my cloak. I turned and took a long look at the mirror before I snuffed out the candle.

Goodbye Erik. I will miss you a great deal, but it has to be this way. Perhaps one day, if you have a heart left after what I've done, you will find it in yourself to understand and forgive me.

There was a thick mist that swirled around the streets when I stepped outside. The late October air was brisk, sending chills down my spine. I quickly tightened my cloak around my body as I hurried down the stairs.

It may have been a trick of the moonlight, or maybe deep fatigue clouding my worried mind, I cannot be certain, but I thought I caught a glimpse of a shadow and the flip of a cloak at the top of Apollo's Lyre as I hurried into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **After much thought I have decided to continue this as a story. But there are a couple of things you should be aware of:

First - I neglected to mention last chapter that I do not own The Phantom of the Opera in any way, shape, or form. That honor belongs to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. I will however, be taking elements from all three versions.

Secondly - This may be my third story, but it is the first that I have written in the first person. Normally I write in third person omniscient, so bare with me as I adjust to this new style of writing. Also, I would love to know how I'm doing :-)

And Lastly - Depending on the direction this story takes, the rating might go up to "T". I will let you all know if and when it does.

I welcome all comments, so please, read and review! ~J

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_You have forsaken me._

_No! No Angel, I didn't mean to…_

_You have turned your back on everything I have taught you, therefore turning your back on me. _

_I-I'm sorry…_

_You have betrayed me. Now as a result, you have lost me forever._

_No please! Erik!_

I woke up with my hands outstretched in front of me. The room was still pitch black. My heart thundered so hard in my chest that I could hear it in my ears. Sweat plastered my hair to my forehead. I quickly swiped some of it away and took a few shuddering deep breaths.

Pushing back the blankets I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Perhaps if I splashed cold water on my face it would help to me calm down. The clock in the hall said a little after two. I hadn't slept very long. I had been so exhausted when I returned home, both mentally and physically, that I thought sleep would have come easily. But I'd tossed and turned for hours before I fell into a shallow slumber filled with tortured dreams.

The all-too-familiar feeling of guilt settled into the pit of my stomach. I had expected to feel somewhat anxious about leaving. After all, it would only be a matter of hours before I would flee from my dark angel. What I had not expected was the utter shame and the suffocating feeling that I was doing something wrong. It gnawed at me like a caged animal would its prison.

But why?

Splashing water on my face only left me wet and cold. It did nothing to still my beating heart or relieve the constricting feeling that was upon me. The face in the mirror was that of a stranger's. I hardly recognized the young woman who was reflected back to me. My face was gaunt, with sunken cheeks and hollow brown eyes that were shadowed with pain and heartache. Dark circles appeared beneath them, a grim testament to the amount of sleep I'd been getting. Sleep, which now looked like an impossible goal after the dream I just had.

I suddenly became acutely aware of how alone I was. The empty flat groaned and creaked on its foundation. Oh why had I been so adamant on living alone? I had insisted upon taking this small flat instead of staying in the dormitories offered on the premises of the opera house. But right about now it would have been nice to have the many girls around for support, even if all they thought was that I'd had a bad dream.

Raoul's winning smile flashed in my mind, followed by Erik's dark brooding glare. The choice between the two should have been obvious, and yet, something kept drawing me back to Erik time and again.

I longed for my father's strong guiding hand to show me the way. He was always quick to wipe away my tears and offer me sound advice whenever I came to him with a problem. Now that I am left to make my own decisions, I am horrified at the thought of hurting all who are involved.

I padded quietly on bare feet back to the bedroom, but instead of climbing back into bed, I walked over to the window and lifted the shade. The mist that was present earlier in the evening had dissipated, giving way to a light snow that fell soundlessly from the sky. I suppose it could have been perceived as both beautiful and graceful, but to me the whole scene just looked bleak and depressing.

Once again I pondered my reluctance to leave Erik behind, willing the reason to become clear in my mind. But in life, things are never clear nor are they easy. There is rarely ever a simple path, one that stands apart from the others. More often there are many choices that must be weighed and considered carefully before a decision is made.

A thought began to form, one that I had repeatedly shoved down and tried to squelch in the past. Were my feelings for Erik more than just a genuine appreciation and grateful respect for my teacher? Did his dark and frequently malevolent aura hold something deeper for me, something my heart was unwilling to admit? The concept terrified me. Could I embrace the darkness and learn to love Erik?

My body began to shake and my heart skipped a few beats.

Did I dare?

A large lump rose to the base of my throat and no matter how hard I tried, swallowing would not make it go away. The air around me seemed to grow thinner, making it hard to breathe. The silence that filled the empty flat was crushing, the only sound I heard was that of my own heart thrashing wildly against the cavity in my chest. An inexplicable sense of impending doom settled into my bones, sending a warning signal to my head that something was very wrong. I reasoned with myself that I'd found the solution to that problem, but the more I thought about leaving with Raoul, the greater that feeling got.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I breathed in deeply in an effort to stave off the panic I felt creeping in. The palms of my hands were sweating. Absently I wiped them off on my nightgown. I told myself that what I was contemplating was irrational, even crazy, but I knew even as I sat there what I needed to do.

With blood pumping loudly in my ears I rose and slowly changed from my nightgown into a simple dress. My fingers fumbled and shook as I tried to fasten the buttons.

_I have surely gone made,_ I thought. But the feeling was as insistent as it was undeniable, as though an unseen force was pulling me into the night. I could not resist it.

At the bottom of the stairs I grabbed my cloak and bundled it around me, steeling myself for the cold outside. To my surprise it was a bit warmer than it had been earlier, probably as a result of the low storm clouds and the snow.

The journey was quick and soon I stood outside the dark opera house. Using my key, I let myself in and stole quietly down the halls to my dressing room. As I gazed trembling at the shadowy mirror the enormity of what I was about to do washed over me. With a shaking hand I fingered the electronic mechanism, causing the mirror to swing on a gigantic pivot, revealing a black gaping maw with ice cold breath.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. Visions of Erik returned to me, of him standing in that dark passageway, of him throwing the piano bench and raking my fingers over his grotesque face after I had unmasked him. _Oh God! _I choked back a sob. _I can't do it!_

Slamming my hand against the trigger, the mirror swung back into place. I gathered my skirts and cloak in my hands and rushed from the room, not once looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I must thank all of you for your support on this story! Here is the next chapter. Enjoy and please R&R! ~J

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Raoul's face paled when I opened the door. Just as I thought, he wasn't about to leave me alone and had arrived on my doorstep early the next morning. I was not prepared and was shocked to see him standing there with an armful of flowers. Behind him the day was uncharacteristically beautiful and bright. The lingering storm had passed during the last few hours of darkness. Rays of sunshine bounced of his sandy blonde hair, making it shine gold. The light was kind to his features, making him seem even more vibrant and alive.

I was another story. The long sleepless night coupled with my late excursion had left their mark. My shallow cheeks were colorless, my eyes puffy from crying with shadows as dark as bruises circling them. I felt as ragged as I looked, barely having enough energy to get out of bed. If that is what it would have taken to avoid this day, then I would have gladly stayed under the covers forever.

Raoul remembered himself and softly cleared his throat. "Are you going to invite me in or just leave me standing out here on the stoop?"

"I'm sorry Raoul," I said, shaking my head. My lack of manners was appalling.

Raoul seemed to notice because he said, "A bit distracted this morning, are we?"

I waved him in and indicated that he sit while I went to find a vase for the flowers. When I returned I found him standing by the fireplace, staring into the empty hearth. When he heard my footsteps he immediately turned around. There was a touch of sadness in the way he looked at me.

He handed me the bouquet all the while staring at me intently. I smiled back, trying to lighten his mood, but his penetrating gaze was making me uncomfortable.

"What brings you here so early?" I asked while busily rearranging the display of blooms.

"Christine," he said solemnly, "have you had a change of heart?"

"What?" I said with a brittle laugh.

He looked at me pointedly.

"I had a long night," I sighed, hoping he wouldn't press me for details.

"Obviously. I can tell that you didn't get much sleep."

Suddenly very self conscious about my appearance, I rubbed at my swollen eyes. He gathered my nervous hands in his and led me to the settee where he gently guided me to sit, and then kneeled at my feet.

"I understand that this is a life altering decision," he began slowly, "and you have every right to be apprehensive and scared. But darling, can't you see that it will ultimately be for the best?"

I looked down to where his fingers tightly squeezed my own so that he wouldn't see the turmoil and the tears that were building up in my eyes. How could I tell him what I was feeling when I didn't even understand it myself? I had frozen in terror last night as I stood in front of the open mirror. Instead of confessing my feelings to Erik like I know I should have, I was overcome with the same trepidation he always stirred in me. Rather than confront those fears head on and embrace the dark side of the man I'd grown to understand and even yearn for, I had run with all my might in the wrong direction. Now I am afraid I might have lost my only chance.

Raoul kissed the knuckles on my hand one by one and then swept his hand to my cheek, gently brushing the unruly brown curls away.

"Just know that I will always be there for you in your time of need," he continued, oblivious to my inner struggle. "Together we'll get through this ordeal."

"Thank you," I managed weakly.

He seemed satisfied enough with my answer because he got to his feet and pulled me up along with him. He took a long look around at the condition of my sitting room and then flashed that familiar, charming grin at me.

"Well," he announced as he slapped his hands together. "We have some time. Come, I'll help you gather your things."

He kept me busy for the rest of the afternoon. Because of the suddenness of it all, I hadn't thought much about what I would do with my belongings. Most I wouldn't be able to take with me on my midnight flight out of the city. Deciding what possessions I would bring with me in a small trunk was the hardest of all. Of course, my father's violin and my mother's jewelry were a given, but it caused great heartache to know that I would never see the rest of my things again. Raoul didn't want to jeopardize our future by giving out the location of where we were headed to have my property sent there. It was just one more thing that added to my growing sense of loss.

For the most part during the long afternoon I kept to myself, trying to sort out my decision to go to the opera house – and my decision to run. But every time my thoughts turned to Erik, Raoul would distract me in some way.

Soon my belongings were packed in the trunk and loaded onto the back of Raoul's carriage and it was time to leave for the opera house. With a heavy heart I turned to look at my meager flat and said a silent goodbye. Raoul's hand applied insistent pressure on the small of my back, refusing to let me linger.

In no time at all we reached the steps of the opera house. Dark clouds had begun to roll in, chasing away the unusually sunny skies. The imminent storm threatened to unleash its fury. He ushered me quickly into my dressing room and stood outside the door while I changed into my costume. Inside I did my best not to look at the mirror. The guilt I felt was overwhelming. But it was too late to back out now.

As we walked silently toward the backstage area, Raoul finally noticed my agitation. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. But if I thought that he was perceptive enough to sense my regret, I was mistaken.

"Nervous? It must be like this every time you go onstage," he mused, finishing his own question with complete disregard to how I really felt on the subject. "But don't worry, if you get anxious just look up and you will see me in my brother's box."

I nodded dumbly. It was not his box I was thinking about. Would Erik be in box five?

"Ten minutes to show time," someone called behind us.

Raoul placed a quick peck on my cheek before he said, "I will meet you right here after the performance."

I watched him as he turned and walked in the direction of the main foyer.

"I love you!" he called back.

I could not bring myself to return the sentiment.

Normally I'm very good at removing myself from my surroundings and focusing only on my singing and the events happening on the stage. But tonight as I stepped out from behind the curtain I was acutely aware of all the eyes that rested on me intently. Suddenly it seemed that the audience wasn't there for the performance, but to bear witness to my ultimate betrayal. Thousands of eyes riveted on me as mouths turned up in scowls and sneers of judgment.

My palms and brow began to sweat under their scrutiny and my heart was pounding so hard I feared my voice would crack. I needed to get control of myself and soon, or I would completely embarrass myself and botch my final goodbye to Erik all at the same time.

I chanced a look up to Raoul's box and met his face. It was pallid and full of concern. Obviously I was telegraphing my anxiety to everyone in the attendance. Slowly my eyes traveled across the auditorium to box five and my relief at seeing it empty was so great that my voice wavered and I had the sudden feeling that I was going to faint.

Without any warning, not even so much as a flicker, the stage was plunged into darkness. I could hear the cries of the startled crowd as the confusion steadily dissolved into panic.

In a flash as quick as lightning a pair of hands seized my shoulders and pushed me forward, forcing me to walk or else be trampled. The dark was so absolute, so consuming that I became disoriented, not knowing which direction I was being lead. Abruptly those hands let go of me and I faintly heard the click of a latch. Within seconds that hand shot out again and snatched my wrist. I was pulled two steps before being swept up into a strong pair of arms. My heart raced to my throat as the ground beneath us disappeared and we fell suddenly. Instinctively I clung to the person who was holding me.

When we landed the resulting thud echoed hollowly around us. The air was dense and the temperature changed drastically, no longer warm but chilly as a grave. I knew then that this was no kind Samaritan trying to guide me safely off the stage. No, it was much worse. The thought struck fear in my heart. Somehow, some inexplicable way, Erik had discovered our plan and had come for me.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Greetings!

This chapter pretty much follows the Leroux/Kay storyline. I wanted to bring back the Erik from the original story; threatening, scary, and slightly unhinged. Too often I see Erik's character turned into mush (which sometimes I am guilty of myself). So if I elicit any *gasp!* reactions, then I know I've done my job as an author.

On that note, if you are interested in seeing the more tender, but still aloof and elusive side of our favorite phantom, then check out my other story, Thoughts of Summertime.

In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! ~J

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I'm told that the entire incident happened in less than a minute. A brief interruption to the gas caused the whole auditorium to be cloaked in darkness. By the time the lights were restored, I had already vanished from the stage.

For me, the world had stopped turning. Once I realized what had happened, time stood still. Erik's grip on my wrist was like steel, cold and merciless as he pulled me along behind him. I remained silent, not daring to even scream, my protests squelched beneath the feeling of dread that had come to rest in my bosom.

When we reached the house on the lake he stormed into the drawing room and shoved me forcefully toward the settee. I stumbled and fell to my knees inches before it, bracing myself against the seat cushion. I heard him walk up behind me and inclined my head to see him towering over me with a look of pure derision. He was frightening to behold, dressed in full evening attire with his black cloak dropping over his shoulders.

"Going somewhere, were you?" he hissed with barely concealed malice.

My heart thundered madly. I dropped my eyes to the ground, unable to answer him.

He bent down, coiled like a snake about to strike. "Tell me Christine, did you think I would just let you leave?"

Still I said nothing.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't have found out about that boy's ploy? I am everywhere Christine. You will never escape me."

I gulped and cowered lower, putting my hands over my head. It had never occurred to me that Erik might have followed us and overheard our plans. I was too dazzled by the moonlight, too wrapped up in the security of Raoul's arms. How I wished for him now.

"Answer me!" he demanded. Grabbing me roughly by the arm he hauled me up to him.

"I-I don't know," I stammered.

His fingers tightened firmly around my arm.

"Please Erik," I sobbed. "Let go of me. You don't understand."

"Don't I?" He released his hold and began to pace slowly about the room, like a lion testing the limits of its cage. "I think I have a rather good handle on it all. I understand that you were going to run away, not bothering to say goodbye, to explain yourself, _nothing!_ You had no qualms about leaving me to figure out what happened to you, wondering if you had been detained, or worse, if you were hurt." He gestured angrily to his mask. "You didn't even have the civility to tell me to my _face_ that you don't love me! Am I correct?"

"I-"

"No! I am convinced that if it wasn't for that damned boy, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"I tried to tell you."

"Really?" he sneered. "When?"

"Last night. But-"

He stopped stalking back and forth and came over to me, where he brought his face within inches of mine. The low candlelight bounced off the black mask that covered most of his face, making him unbelievably threatening.

His eyes narrowed. "Lies do not become you."

"I sang for you tonight! I couldn't stand the thought of saying goodbye to you in person."

He turned up the corner of his mouth in disgust. "Of course. I, unlike other men, don't deserve that common courtesy."

I shrank away as his hot breath washed over my face, wanting to put as much distance between us as I could. The dead calm he was now exhibiting was infinitely more terrifying than the outright rage he had shown only moments before.

"Do I frighten you Christine?" he sinisterly whispered.

"Yes…"

"Good." He straightened and spread his arms out wide. "Because of your lies and the utterly callous way you have betrayed me, you are now a prisoner down here. You have lost the freedom to choose. Look around at your new home, because you will never see the surface again. Or," he added for spite, "that boy."

"You're a monster!" I screamed through my tears.

"Anything that I am now is because of you," he returned flatly.

Anger surged through my veins, making me careless and bolder than usual.

"It's no wonder that I chose Raoul over you!" I shrieked, heedless of the consequences my words would bring down upon me. "Not when you use fear and threats to force my love!"

Erik snarled, like a ravenous wolf showing its teeth, and turned to grab the small table next to him. There was a terrible crash as it collided violently with the bookshelf on the far side of the room and splintered into pieces. First edition volumes toppled off the shelves, making small thumps as they cascaded down and settled on the floor.

His eyes burned with fire as he spun around on me. They blazed with a fury I had never seen before, not even when I had first unmasked him. My breath hitched when he advanced toward me. Overcome by the sudden fear that he was about to do me harm, I bolted toward the door that led to the bedrooms. He was much faster though, and caught me by the arm as I dashed by, savagely whipping me around.

"Stop!" I screamed. I fought wildly against him, but my thrashing only made his grip tighten more. "Please! Don't do this!"

My pleas fell on deaf ears. He dragged me back to the center of the drawing room just as an electric bell started to sound. He let go of me abruptly and I was dropped unceremoniously on the ground. The look in his eyes made my blood run cold. It was one of satisfaction and sadistic pleasure. But thankfully, for the moment he seemed to have completely forgotten about me.

"Erik, what is that noise?" I asked timidly.

"Your lover has decided to oblige me," he replied with a smirk.

"W-what do you mean?"

"As I suspected, he could not keep away."

"Raoul? Raoul is here?"

"Don't sound so hopeful. I assure you, he won't leave here with his life. He is completely at my mercy."

My mouth opened and shut wordlessly. It wasn't very long until I found out exactly what he was talking about. A series of pounding filtered through the wall in front of us.

"Erik! For God's sake, let us out!"

Erik's body stiffened and for a fleeting moment, alarm passed through his golden eyes. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone as he regained control.

"Daroga," he called out cordially to the voice beyond the wall, as if he had just opened the door and invited him in for tea, "how exquisite that you have decided to accompany the boy."

I listened closely, hinged on his every word on the chance that he would reveal information on where Raoul was.

"Of course," Erik continued, "you do realize that your decision to assist him comes at the price of your own life. I cannot be held responsible for your ultimate demise."

I clamored to my feet. "Who are you talking to Erik? Where is Raoul?"

He swung around to me and as he did, his cloaked swirled in the wind the movement created.

"In the torture chamber, my dear."

The color drained from my face.

"The what?"

"You didn't think I was going to let him live did you? Oh no. I couldn't have him running about, involving the authorities. I really don't like the feeling of being hunted you know."

The room around me began to blur.

"But he was kind enough to make it easy on me by coming down here. Thank you lad!" he called out.

I heard Raoul scream my name before my knees buckled and all went black.

When I awoke some time later I was laying on the settee. Erik was nowhere to be seen. The foggy haze slowly receded and I sat up with a start.

_Raoul!_

Rushing over to the far wall I put my ear against it and listened intently. I could hear nothing coming from the other side. I shouted his name, but received no response.

Just then, Erik marched into the room. His gait suggested that nothing unusual was amiss. He went over to the large pipe organ and picked up a blank page of sheet music.

"What is happening to them?" I cried.

He looked up at me. "They are succumbing to the tortures," he replied cryptically before he turned and walked out.

The 'tortures', as Erik put it, lasted for hours. Raoul had enlisted the help of the mysterious man known only as the Persian, and together they had discovered an entrance in the third cellar that led them to a mantrap Erik had cleverly labeled his torture chamber.

He described to me, with some degree of pride, that it was a hexagonal shaped room lined from floor to ceiling with mirrors. They were positioned in such a way that one's likeness would be reflected back to them an infinite number of times, along with an iron tree that stood in one corner. The true torture began when Erik turned up the heat of a furnace, raising the temperature of the small room. The victims of the cruel device would start to hallucinate; soon believing that the only way out was by committing suicide with a rope that hung from the lone branch of the iron tree.

Desperate, I fell to the ground at Erik's feet.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please let them out. I'll do anything."

He looked down, his yellow eyes cold and indifferent.

"You have given me no reason to believe you."

"I swear it! On the grave of my father, I swear to you that I'll stay here with you. Just let them go!"

He folded his arms across his chest. "How noble," he mocked. "The young maiden heroically sacrifices herself to save her true love."

He scoffed and turned to leave. As I watched him walk away, regret settled into my stomach. I hadn't wanted it to come to this. I had not meant to wound Erik as I did, to the point that he felt forced to hold me captive, nor had I meant to endanger Raoul. Now another life hung in the balance, the Persian, who had unknowingly risked his own neck in order to help Raoul. I was overcome with crushing guilt. I could have prevented all this had I only followed through with my intentions the night before.

I couldn't let him leave. The time for hiding was over. Scrambling to my feet, I ran after him and caught him by the shoulder with enough force to bring him to a halt. His head traveled down to where my fingers entwined in his shirt, his eyes revealing his surprise that I'd willingly touched him. Artfully I stepped between him and the door.

"I came here last night. I intended to tell you of Raoul's plan…and inform you that I wanted to stay. I got as far as the mirror but then I…lost my nerve…"

Sadness flickered through his eyes, making them darken. He calmly removed my hand from his sleeve.

"Fairy tales are better left for children."

He tried to push past me.

"No! Wait!"

I had to show him, to prove to him that I was serious. There was only one way. I rose quickly on the tips of my toes and placed my hands on either side of his mask. It was cold and unfeeling to my touch. Using strength I didn't know I had, I pulled him down to me and pressed my lips to his. I felt his entire body go rigid and then his lips softened and his arms slowly encircled me.

Waves of electricity shot down my arms, making my fingertips tingle when he began to respond. His long fingers spread across the small of my back and using slight pressure he pulled me closer to him. His malformed lips danced around mine uncertainly, almost as if he was afraid they were fragile and he might break them if he pressed too hard. But even that fleeting touched ignited such a fire in me that I soon realized that I wouldn't be satisfied until I had more.

Strange, I thought, Raoul had never made me feel the way I did now.

Sooner than I wanted, we parted and I stepped back in a blissful daze. Suddenly everything made sense. For the first time in three months my head was clear. In that moment, while I was safely enclosed in Erik's arms, I knew I never wanted to leave them. I was ready to stay, not because I feared for Raoul's life, but because I loved him.

I searched his eyes, frantic to find any clues as to what he was feeling. The normally intense orbs were now dull and shadowed.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for only a second and then he went to the wall and activated a switch that I hadn't noticed before. A series of loud clangs followed and then the wall before me slid open, revealing the mirrored room beyond. A wave of suffocating heat hit me in the face, causing me to momentarily lose my breath.

Erik disappeared into the enveloping darkness and soon emerged with Raoul's limp body. I stood there dumbly as he placed him at my feet and then went back in for the other man. When he returned he laid him gingerly on the settee and left to fetch some blankets.

"Tend to your young man Christine," he instructed, handing me one. I was promptly presented with his back as he turned his attention to the Persian.

My head was swimming from all that was happening around me. He was letting them go? What about the kiss we had shared? Did he feel the same thing I felt? What would happen now?

Both men were unconscious. I unfolded the blanket and covered Raoul's still form and then settled to the ground where I gently rested his head on my knee. His blonde hair was damp, the strands plastered to his forehead and around his ears. Absently I brushed them away and stroked his clammy cheeks. I dreaded the moment when he would wake up and I would have to tell him that it had all been for nothing. In my heart I knew he wouldn't understand my decision.

I glanced over to where Erik was delicately administering care to the Persian. The act caught me off guard, as if I'd assumed he was incapable of that kind of tenderness. It was obvious that he knew this man well and held some type of affection toward him.

Raoul stirred, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Christine…" he groaned weakly.

"Yes, I'm here."

I looked back over my shoulder. Erik was now focused on our exchange. I heard Raoul grunt as he struggled to sit up.

"Don't try to move yet," I scolded, pushing lightly on his chest to keep him down. "Listen Raoul, I need to tell you-"

"That's right boy," Erik said, brushing by me. He grabbed Raoul's elbow, offering enough support to help him to his feet. "Yes, you're a strapping young lad. No worse for the wear."

Raoul looked at him, dazed.

"Now tell me boy, are you lucid enough to find your way out of here?"

He nodded, slowly regaining control of his senses.

"Very well. Christine knows the way and can guide you both safely to the surface."

"Both?" I jumped up. "Erik, what are you saying?"

"I want you to take her away, somewhere far from me," he told Raoul as if I had not spoken at all. "Marry her with my blessing and cherish her for the rest of your days. Can you do that?"

Raoul's hand slid possessively to my wrist. "Yes."

"Good. Then it is done."

With that, he pivoted on his heel and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. My jaw dropped.

"Erik!"

I tried to yank my hand from Raoul's grasp so I could run to the door. Erik was making a terrible mistake. I wanted to stay! _I needed him!_ But his grip was like granite and I was unable to shake loose.

"_Erik!"_ I sobbed.

I felt Raoul's arm circle around my waist and then I was hoisted off my feet.

"Stop it! Let go of me! Please!" I balled my fists and pounded on his arms, but I was no match for his resolve. Eventually I relented in my struggle and broke down into tears and he was able to lead me from the house and back to the surface.

When Erik closed the door behind him that night, it felt like he had shut it on my soul.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A short but necessary transitional chapter. More on the way.

Also, I've changed the rating to be safe for future themes.

Enjoy ~J

* * *

The storm clouds that had hung threateningly low in the air finally relented and unleashed their fury and the streets of Paris were soon awash with heavy torrential rain. It seemed as if the heavens were crying along with me and I took slight comfort in the thought that my surroundings mirrored my heartache.

Before long, the houses and buildings grew more sporadic as Raoul's carriage left the city limits. The scenery began to blur as we continued on into the night. I fixed my gaze out the window, staring at nothing in particular, instead concentrating on the events that happened only moments earlier.

My mind replayed Erik shutting that door over and over again. I struggled to comprehend everything. I had been so sure that Erik had felt the same rush of heat and excitement, that electric spark that I had felt. Why then, had he discarded me so quickly? I felt hollow inside. I had sunk into a state of apathy, no longer caring what my future held.

Raoul sat quietly on the seat across from me. He hadn't said a word to me since we left the opera house and I made no effort to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. No doubt he was still digesting my actions below. Perhaps he thought he'd won, but deep down I think he knew better.

The isolated houses soon gave way to rolling countryside and with it rain turned to snow, blanketing the hills with white. The monotony of the landscape made my lids grow heavy and despite my attempts they soon closed, allowing me to descend into a much needed sleep.

The sudden jerk of the carriage woke me and I opened my eyes in time to see it slow to a stop in front of a modest inn. Where were we? And just how long had I been asleep? Raoul's face swam into my hazy vision.

"Christine?" He held out his hand. "Are you ready to go?"

The walls of my narcosis began to fade and I nodded as I took his outstretched hand. He held it gingerly as he assisted me down the steps. The air around us was brisk. I wrapped my arms around myself protectively to keep out the chill. The cold made it impossible for me to take the time to look around at my surroundings and gauge where we were.

Inside, the inn had a rustic flair. The walls were a warm honey oak, dotted here and there with decorations made from the branches of nearby pine trees. Several chandeliers with glass chimneys cast an inviting glow over the small lobby and a roaring fire crackled in a cozy sitting area off to the right.

While two men wrestled to untie and carry in the trunk that contained my precious few belongings, Raoul placed a firm hand on my shoulder and steered me through the reception area to the counter. A middle-aged man stood there patiently, waiting to receive us. He had shiny black hair that was parted neatly down the center and a well trimmed mustache. He extended his hand toward Raoul, who took it without hesitation.

"Good evening Monsieur de Chagny," he said warmly, obviously not at all inconvenienced by the late hour.

Raoul nodded in return. I listened intently to their exchange.

"Everything has been prepared for you according to your specifications," he continued.

Raoul nodded again. _How long had he been planning this?_ I wondered. And how could he have been so sure that I would agree to go with him? Who was this new man, who conducted business so calmly and professionally? His precise efficiency and almost arrogant nature gave me chills.

Their voices droned on while I was lost in thought, but soon enough the necessary business was wrapped up and we were led to our accommodations. The front desk clerk unlocked the door and swept his hand inside. Through the open doorway I could see that the lamps had been turned on.

"As you requested," he said, "we have given you two suites that are connected with an adjoining door."

They both turned their eyes on me expectantly. I kept my gaze to the floor and quietly brushed past them into the room. The same inviting atmosphere as downstairs greeted me. Furniture fashioned from the logs of pine trees sat squatly around the room. There was a large chair positioned to the left and a small writing desk to the right. Oil lamps burned dimly on nightstands on either side of the bed, which was the centerpiece of the room. Tucked away in a corner toward the rear of the room was the customary wash basin and pitcher of water.

"Will you be needing anything else mademoiselle?"

I shook my head. "No." My voice cracked, the words barely above a whisper.

"Very good then. Monsieur de Chagny, I will show you to your room now if you so desire."

"Yes, thank you." Raoul replied.

Without so much as looking back, Raoul followed the man out into the hall and shut the door behind him. I stared at it incredulously, my eyes fixated on the doorknob. That was it? All that had happened and another door was slammed in my face? I didn't know whether to be offended or angry.

One thing was certain; I had never felt more alone. A cold fist tightened around my heart and, powerless to stop it, I broke down into tears. The still air was shattered by my anguished sobs. Clutching my chest in a vain attempt to maintain some composure, I fell on the soft bed, expecting that any minute Raoul would hear my wails and burst through the adjoining door in a grand gesture to save me from my sorrow.

But he did not come.

_Why Erik?_ I moaned into my pillow. _Why did you turn me away?_ I feared now that question might never be answered. And Raoul's sudden aloofness wasn't helping.

I must have cried myself to sleep because I awoke the next morning on top of the coverlet, still in my costume from the night before. The oil lamps had evidently burned themselves out sometime during the night. A dull ache settled into the back of my head as I sat up groggily. All that crying had done me absolutely no good.

I rubbed my forehead and gazed around. The room had lost some of its charm now that daylight was trying to peek through the shades. It made the room look cold and empty.

Dragging myself to my feet I shuffled to the basin and washed the sleep from my eyes. Then I opened the trunk the contained the remnants of my previous life and shifted through the small collection of dresses. Feeling particularly moody that morning, I selected the closest thing to black that I had; a maroon dress with a high collar, accented with black buttons running down the length of the bodice and black lace trimming the edges of the sleeves and the bottom of the skirt. Then I carefully folded the costume, my one remaining tie to Erik, and hid it in the bottom of the trunk.

My hair was in absolute disarray. Using the small mirror above the wash basin in tried vainly to sweep up the messy tendrils into a bun. If it were possible, the shadows under my eyes were even darker. I looked positively horrendous and suddenly I became rather embarrassed by the notion that people would think I was seriously ill.

But before I could dwell too long on my appearance, a knock on the adjoining door sounded. Without waiting for my invitation, Raoul flung the door open and strode into the room. He immediately walked over to the windows and pulled back the shades. Harsh bright light washed over the room, causing me to squint and throw up my hand.

Finally noticing me in the corner he said, "Good, you're up."

I gaped at him, imagining what it would have been like to be woken up in such a cruel fashion had he come in only moments earlier. The dull ache in my head began to pound at the onslaught of light.

"I will give you five minutes and then I will meet you in the foyer for a short breakfast, after which we will continue on our way."

The door to the hall clicked shut after him. He hadn't even said as much as a 'good morning'.

The searing light of the bright, late-morning sun glittered and bounced off the new fallen snow. In the daylight I could see the inn was nestled in a large clearing of evergreens. It was as if I'd stepped into a painting. Snow dusted the roof of the two-story inn and clung to the branches of the trees. Overhead a large bird of prey soared high in a crystal blue sky. The sense of wonder and majesty took my breath away, and for a moment, my soul was at ease.

All too soon the carriage pulled up, ruining the pristine moment. As we drove away, I looked back at the wintery scene, strangely saddened to see it go.

Raoul remained oddly silent during our journey and I found that I was unwilling to break it. We sat across from each other, stalemates, neither of us wanting to discuss the implications of the night before.

"Where are we going?" I finally managed. My voice sounded foreign to me in the enclosed space.

"A small village on the outskirts of Rambouillet," he replied, not looking at me. His gaze was fixed out the window, staring at the trees as they whipped past.

I swallowed hard in an attempt to push down the lump that had risen to my throat. His quiet indifference knifed through me, but no matter how desperate I was for his comfort, I wouldn't beg for it.

Minutes passed, but to me they seemed like hours. Finally Raoul turned to me. The look on his face was unreadable.

"Can I assume that you have put him behind you?" he said brusquely.

A twitch shivered through my bottom lip. I hurriedly clamped my teeth down on it.

"Yes," I whispered, looking at my hands folded in my lap.

He merely nodded and resumed his watch out the window. Sinking down lower on my seat I did the same, but I couldn't help thinking that Erik would have never been this cold.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ok, I must confess that this chapter has been written since the beginning of the week. I didn't have time to type it because I couldn't pull myself away from writing the chapter that comes after this one. I think you're going to like them...

~J

* * *

Raoul rented a modest cottage on the outskirts of town, far away enough to ensure privacy, but still close that it wouldn't be a bother when we needed something. Unfortunately with a title as noble as his, anonymity wasn't guaranteed for long.

We were greeted outside the cottage by Raoul's valet; who was evidently sent beforehand to secure everything, and a stout rather hardened older lady who would serve as both the housekeeper and the cook. Both were very trusted members of the Chagny household and had been with the family for countless years.

Raoul's valet opened the door to the carriage and Raoul climbed out, holding his arm out to me. I took it warily and followed him at a much slower pace.

The setting of the cottage was not as picturesque as the inn, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Its eves were trimmed in a rich brown, while the main exterior was a warm tan. Two chimneys protruded from the roof and large windows that no doubt let in vast amounts of natural light peppered the cheery façade. Behind the house, rows of aspens lined the edge of the property. Off to the left was the stable and carriage house.

"Welcome home Monsieur and Madame de Chagny," said the valet.

My head reared up, although the look in Raoul's eyes prevented me from saying anything. I bit back my indignation before it could boil to the surface. Raoul took my by the elbow and together we walked up the flagstone pathway.

The interior was stunning. The walls were paneled with mahogany molding, topped with a creamy eggshell white. The large staircase with its impressive balustrade greeted us as we walked through the door into the parlor. Through the doorway on the right I spied a rather austere sitting room with the latest style of furniture. The room was done in a heavy forest green, which brought out the opulent wood work in the crown molding and furniture. A large oval area rug in the same shade added warmth and tied the room together. Raoul had obviously spared no expense.

To the left was a formal dining room. Deep burgundy curtains hung from the windows and two massive silver candelabras sat at each end of a dark table that was large enough to seat eight. The cushions on the chairs were embroidered in the same rich fabric as the curtains.

Toward the rear of the house was the kitchen and living quarters for the staff. The back door was divided in two, with the bottom half closed while the top half remained open, letting in a great deal of natural light. I could smell bread baking in the oven. The dour cook pushed past us and shuffled over to the open hearth where she lifted the lid off a huge cast iron pot and stirred the contents inside.

Upstairs Raoul led me to my suite. Pretty wallpaper that shone and looked as soft as silk lined the walls. The four poster oak bed was covered by a delicate white coverlet and matching canopy, complete with two plush pillows. Thin, gauzy curtains covered the windows, which overlooked the snow covered yard and surrounding trees.

The minute he closed the door I spun on him.

"_Madame de Chagny?"_

He looked at me with infuriating calm and placed his hands on my arms just below my shoulders.

"Yes Christine," he sighed, obviously annoyed at my ignorance and lack of foresight. "I would rather not bring scandal upon us so soon after our arrival by making it known that we are living together in sin."

My anger simmered. He was right of course. But my insides twisted at the thought of being his wife. Even though it was not official, I was overcome with the intense feeling of betrayal.

"I would like you to consider making me an honest man," he continued.

"I can't right now Raoul," I said softly. "Please understand. I just need more time."

He squared his shoulders, rejection and hurt crossing his face briefly before he relaxed his features into a look of indifference.

"Raoul, don't…" I pleaded when he pulled away from me.

He mumble some excuse about seeing if the rest of the house was in order and then left me alone in my new suite with only my thoughts for company. I staggered the few steps to the bed and sat down with a heavy heart. How naïve I was to think that Raoul and I would just be able to carry on as if nothing had happened. But I didn't know this man, who spoke to me as if I were a child or part of his staff. Where was the warm, loving companion who would not hesitate to take me in his arms and kiss away my anxieties and fears? I missed his youthful charm and unsullied outlook on life. But worse than that, I was beginning to dislike the man he was presenting to me now.

With nothing better to do besides dwelling on my unhappiness, I decided to occupy my time by unpacking the cumbersome trunk full of my things. I soon found that the simple and mechanical process of putting myself to work eased the pain and let me focus on other things.

As I gathered the pile of dresses in my arms so that I could hang them in the armoire, something heavy slid from the folds and fell to the floor with a clunk. I shifted the weight of the stack so I could look down to see what I'd dropped. What I saw brought it all back. There on the hardwood floor was a simple gold band, the very same band that Erik had given me and made me promise to wear as a symbol that I was obeying the rules he set down; vows that promised I would remain faithful to him and my music, and allow no other distractions. I bent down and picked up the ring with fingers that shook. I didn't remember packing it, or the last time I'd even seen it for that matter. But there it was, shining up at me in all its untarnished glory. I dropped the bundle of dresses, not caring if they wrinkled, and held the ring to my chest as I sank to the floor and cried.

The days passed by slowly, as they inevitably must. Winter fell harshly on the small village, chasing the remaining leaves from the trees and covering everything with a thick layer of knee-deep snow. School age boys gleefully flocked to the neighboring hills with their sleds and younger siblings in tow. The unhurried way of life out in the country was a far cry from that of the fast-paced city of Paris. It reminded me of growing up in Sweden, and then later, on the shores of Normandy where Raoul and I used to run around as children, thrilling each other with bone-chilling ghost stories.

My health plunged along with the temperatures. I walked around the cottage like an automaton, seeing and hearing nothing. I wore the purple shadows underneath my eyes like they belonged there, and before too long I began to drop weight, becoming so thin that Raoul continually pestered me, asking if I was getting enough to eat.

Raoul's housekeeper, Gertrude, observed me with guarded civility that almost bordered on hostility. I think she was more than a bit resentful of being forced to relocate from the opulent Chagny mansion to this quaint country cottage and had chosen me on which to target her discontentment. On occasion though, I was able to persuade her to let me venture to the town market for the supplies she needed to prepare our meals. Raoul detested when I did so, claiming that it wasn't proper for a noble woman to run errands like a common member of the staff. I didn't care, however. It gave me a chance to leave the house and its oppressive atmosphere, and so I risked his anger.

"Christine."

Raoul strode purposefully into my room one blustery morning and closed the door behind him. I turned from where I was standing by the window and looked at him. In that moment my heart squeezed with regret. His normally sunny and cheerful disposition was gone and the naïve, wondering zest for life had instead been replaced by tired eyes and a sallow complexion.

"I feel that I have given you sufficient time to adjust to your new home," he began hesitantly. "And now I believe that the time has come for us to move on with our lives."

"What do you mean?" My heart began to beat with a warning.

"I have arranged for us to be wed in a small ceremony in a nearby town."

I tried to keep the fear out of my voice. "When?"

"Next Saturday."

I swallowed. Suddenly it was very hard to breath. Fortunately Raoul didn't seem to notice.

"Hopefully," he continued sadly, "after we are married and the pressure of living a lie is gone, you will start behaving as though you enjoy it here."

His words were laced with deeper meaning. I feigned a smile to reassure him, but the minute he was gone I promptly fell apart. _Any woman would die to be in my position_, I tried to reason with myself. I should be elated, even if Raoul's proposal was did come off more as an order and not a request. But I couldn't ignore the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped. Marriage was so permanent. And the idea of being tied to Raoul for the rest of my natural life was beginning to make me ill. It occurred to me then that I would never be happy with him, and in that moment of revelation I knew what I had to do.

I had to go back to Erik.

But how? If I took the carriage then Raoul's valet would surely take notice and it wouldn't be long before they put the pieces together and came after me. No, I needed another way to get back to Paris undetected, a way that would at least buy me a few hours time. A cab, maybe? No, that was no good. How would I pay for it? I looked around the room. My eyes settled on the case of my father's violin and my bottom lip started to tremble. Could I? There was no question of choice. I had to.

With shaking hands I quickly gathered the violin and my mother's jewelry and left the bedroom without a backward glance. I considered writing Raoul a letter of explanation, but in the end I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I set them down on the last stair when I reached the bottom and headed for the kitchen. Gertrude was vigorously kneading bread dough when I walked in.

"Gertrude?" I said in a small voice. I didn't know why the woman intimidated me so much, but she did.

She grunted, but didn't look up. Instead she picked up the ball of dough and dropped it back down on the table with a resounding smack. I watched her sprinkle a bit of flour on the top and then she started the whole process over again. She ignored me so completely that I almost lost my nerve and went back upstairs.

"Do you need anything from town for tonight's dinner?" I asked.

She stopped pounding the dough and stared at me. Flour was streaked across her face and there was even some dusting the front of her mousy brown hair. Raising her arm she used her sleeve and wiped the side of her cheek. It only smeared the flour worse.

"I am in desperate need of some carrots for the stew, if you're willing to go out in that," she replied, resting her wrists, palms up, on her haunches.

"Anything else?"

"Not unless you can bring me back a new body," she cackled.

I heard the crack in her back as she stretched and twisted her plump form from side to side.

I smiled and took a step back toward the hallway.

"Would you like me to have Samuel get the carriage for you?" she asked, referring to Raoul's valet.

"No, thank you. I would prefer to walk."

She gawked at me as if I needed to have my head examined, but merely shrugged her shoulders. If she disagreed with me, she knew it was not her place to say it.

I went back down the hall and picked up my objects. Then I hurried out the door and down the steps before I could change my mind.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I had to split this chapter up because it was getting too long, and if I didn't it would have ended in a really bad place and I didn't want the lot of you at my door with torches and pitch forks :-) That being said however, I have a long weekend ahead of me and the insatiable urge to write so expect another one by Sunday.

On another note, I was reading my reviews from the site on my phone and the stupid thing slipped from my hand. I cannot be sure but my finger may have slipped and selected the "report" button on one of the reviews (I have since noticed that FF has implemented safeguards from that happening again) but I'm sick with dread at the thought that I may have accidentally reported one of my faithful readers. If it did happen, please know that I'm deeply sorry.

And now, on to the story! ~J

* * *

The wind howled around me like a feral beast in pain, blowing the snow sideways so hard at times that I couldn't see my hands in front of my face. Ten minutes into my trip my feet were frozen and I couldn't feel my fingers and toes. My resolve was rapidly dwindling and I had to fight with myself to keep going.

By the time I got into town I was so cold that I could barely move. After several minutes of frantic searching I spotted a cab driver on his way into one of the shops. I quickly darted over to him.

"_Excusez-moi monsieur," _I said breathlessly.

He turned his surprised eyes on me. "What are you doing out in weather like this?" he queried. "You'll catch your death out here!"

"I need to secure travel to Paris."

"Not today you won't," he replied gravely. "I'm not going anywhere until this storm passes."

My bottom lip started to tremble violently. How could I have been so foolish to think that anyone would want to travel in this weather? But now what was I to do? I couldn't go back the way I came – I'd hardly made it here.

The driver must have seen the look of despair written on my face because he asked, "Why are you in such a hurry to get to Paris?"

"My father is very sick," I hastily lied. "My mother thinks he won't last more than a couple of days and I'm trying to get there before it's too late."

It was awful of me to distort the truth and I knew. But I felt that I didn't have any alternatives. Maybe when I was safely in Erik's arms I could stop hurting innocent people and those I loved.

He looked at me for a long moment, deliberating on whether he wanted to embark on such an insane trip. Finally he said, "All right, I'll do it. But it will cost you extra for the inconvenience."

"How much extra?" I asked warily.

"Fifteen francs."

A tiny knot of fear tightened in my stomach. I hoped I could get enough from my jewelry and the violin to afford the extra expense. Otherwise I would have to trek back to the cottage in the snow and explain why I'd returned without the carrots. A little voice nagged at me that I shouldn't have left in the first place.

He sensed my indecision.

"Tell you what," he said. "When you decide, you can find me in there." He pointed to a small café. "I'll wait for half an hour and if I don't hear from you by then I will assume that you've come to your senses and hunkered down."

I nodded. I wasn't going to give up that easily.

Twenty minutes and countless tears later I had parted with my two most treasured possessions. But I had obtained enough money to buy a hot meal and pay the extra fee the driver had asked for. I couldn't deny that he deserved it. I just wish I didn't have to lie to him.

_Oh well,_ I sighed.

I ran over to the café and wrenched the door open. The wind whistled loudly through the crack as I tried to shut it. The occupants of the small room glared at me as their warm heat was sucked out behind me. I quickly spotted the driver and waved to him before I went to the counter and ordered a bowl of soup and a hot roll.

I quietly set my food down next to him on the table. Though he could never guess the real reason, his eyes softened somewhat when he noticed that I'd been crying. But he said nothing, merely grunted in greeting and went back to slurping his own soup. When he was finished he wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back in his chair to look at me.

"Where are your things?" he demanded suddenly. "How come you got no luggage if you're traveling that far?"

"They're gone," I whispered while picking pieces off my roll.

He studied me intently for a long time, but thankfully didn't ask me to elaborate. Instead he stood up and put on his heavy coat and hat.

"We'll leave as soon as you're finished."

I slept most of the way there. The scene out my window was just as cheerless, if not more depressing than it was at the cottage. The snow blew so hard that it stuck to the sides of the tree trunks and twice the carriage was almost lodged in a snow drift. Darkness descended all too soon, making what little visibility I had impossible. I dozed off shortly after that.

The sound of the driver knocking on the partition woke me. Slightly confused and drowsy, I rattled off the address of my flat. He deposited me at the curb and I paid his fee with a heartfelt 'thank you'. After writing down directions to nearby lodgings he was on his way and I was left alone to ponder the enormity of what I'd just done.

I counted my blessings that Raoul had been unsuccessful thus far at arranging the sale of my flat. Aside from the stark white sheets and a fine layer of dust covering the furnishings, everything was pretty much how I'd left it. Although I must admit it was disconcerting to walk around the rooms. The place had an ethereal feel to it, almost if I didn't belong there anymore. Shuddering at the thought, I hurried up the stairs to change into dry clothes.

Most of my finer dresses had been packed and taken to the cottage. There wasn't much left for me to choose from. In the end I selected what was once a pretty lavender dress now turned a dull gray from washing. It had a lower neckline than I would have liked, but I wasn't left with many options.

The clock in the hallway bonged the time; a quarter past one in the morning. My muscles screamed and my body begged me to rest, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep when I was so close to seeing Erik. And so, with a hummingbird's wings beating a frantic rhythm in my heart, I pulled the sheet off the roll top desk at the foot of the stairs, grabbed the key that would allow me entrance into the opera house, and stole quietly into the night once again.

This time my anxiousness kept me from thinking about the cold. Even still, the frigid air outside was below freezing. The storm that seemed to follow us to Paris had continued along its way, leaving a crystal clear night sky with millions of blinking stars. The blue moon cast a ghostly glow over the snowy streets, lighting my way better than any lantern could.

My chest was filled with apprehension, but unlike the last time I stood before the mirror, it wasn't due to gut wrenching fear but instead because of powerful longing. I was lost without Erik! I had finally come to the realization that life meant nothing without him by my side.

In spite of it all, my fingers still shook as I worked the pivots that would open the mirror, and once more I was presented with a black hole, a gateway that held the key to my future happiness in this world. All I had to do was take that step.

I took a hesitant breath. "God, grant me the courage to do this," I whispered before I grabbed a tiny lantern from the dressing table and stepped through the mirror.

The air was as cold as death in the tunnel. From a distance I could hear the sound of water dripping and every now and then I thought I saw shadows move along the stone walls.

During my descent below I fretted about all the possible scenarios. What would Erik say when he saw me? Because it was so early in the morning, would he even hear me knocking on the door? My heart stopped. Would he even still be here? I had been so quick to assume that he would continue to dwell in the house on the lake that I hadn't considered the possibility that he might have left. I shook my head to rid it of those thoughts. No, I couldn't think about that now.

The waters of the lake were eerily calm. Raising the lantern hardly kept the darkness at bay. Luck was with me though; I found the boat moored nearby. With visions of Erik wrapping his strong protective arms around me fueling me onward, I hurried down to the bank and climbed aboard.

I had not anticipated just how hard it would be to row the boat across the lake. I had seen Erik do it dozens of times and he'd made it look as easy as slicing through hot butter. But by the time I was half way I was exhausted. The peaceful silence was fractured by my ragged breathing and the short, clipped strokes I was making. Panting, I pulled the oars out of the water and rested them on the side of the boat to catch my breath. Was it my imagination or was the water rippling a little rougher than it was a minute ago? My brows furrowed as I leaned over the side of the boat, trying to assure myself that it was only my tired mind that was conjuring the shadows beneath the murky depths…

All of a sudden the surface of the water came alive. Two ice cold hands latched on to my wrists and before I knew what was happening I was pulled into the arctic lake. I let out a scream but the freezing water filled my mouth, stifling my frenzied cries. Fighting with all that I had I thrashed about, desperately trying to keep my head above the waves. The water was like hundreds of knives, ruthlessly piercing all over my body. It quickly sapped all my strength and made my limbs feel sluggish and achy.

I felt the iron grip loosen from my wrists and fasten around my neck as I was once more pulled under the surface. My fate was as good as sealed against this unknown assailant but I managed a strangled scream before I swallowed another mouthful of liquid agony.

"_Erik!"_

My last thoughts would be of him, I decided as the world grew hazy and dark. The hands sprang open, releasing their hold… and then I knew no more.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **This chapter has taken me the better part of a year to write, because there is so much at stake here and I just wasn't really satisfied with how it was turning out. Now it is finally finished and I am very pleased with the end result. A very heartfelt "Thank You!" goes out to all those reader who've stuck by this story. This chapter is for you.

Please note that during my "break" from this story, I started writing for another genre (sci-fi), and it's been rather hard to adjust back to writing a period piece again. So if any of the wording seems to be off in this chapter, that would be the reason why. ~J

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In the world of dreams time ceases to exist. One can spend minutes or days and even weeks encompassed in that misty realm, surrounded both by visions of wonderfully fantastic things and of terrifying nightmares that never seem to end. I cannot say for certain how long I spent in that oblivion, hovering on the brink of life and death, or when, exactly, I chose to return to reality.

I awoke in a small, dim room illuminated only by a few candles. The faint flickering glow from the orange-yellow flames cast huge black shadows over bare walls that loomed tall and frightening above me. It took me a full minute to realize that I wasn't dead or even dreaming, but that instead that I was lying in a rather comfortable bed. I tried to move but my muscles ached from wildly jerking around to fight off the pair of hands that seemed intent on dragging me down into a watery grave.

My sluggish heart rate began to escalate. Why had I been spared in the end? And where was I now?

In struggling to sit up my movement must have alerted someone to the fact that I was now awake, because I heard heavy footsteps cross the room and stop at the foot of the bed. I slammed my eyes shut, not wanting to see the face of the person who had just brutally tried to kill me.

What happened next was a blur. A cold hand fell upon my clammy forehead and my eyes snapped open to see a massive black shadow standing over me. My hands flew up in front of my face to ward off my attacker, but the screams died hoarsely in my bruised and swollen throat and came out instead as raspy whispers. Still, that didn't stop me from thrashing about. If this shadow was bent on killing me, than I would die fighting.

"_Christine!"_

His voice sliced through my panic and instantly calmed me, even as he took hold of my flailing hands.

"Erik?"

He let go of me and struck a match, lighting the lamp on the table beside the bed. When he turned back to me I could see his gleaming yellow eyes and the black mask, and I knew a moment of intense relief.

If I had any hopes of being passionately taken into his embrace, they quickly vanished as he folded his arms across his chest and looked down on me scornfully.

"Why have you come back here?" he demanded.

He made no attempt to explain the incident in the boat, but merely stood waiting for my reply. And in the face of such stony coldness I completely lost my nerve and forgot what I had so carefully planned to say.

Sitting up with some effort, all I could do was stare back at him.

His entire body was tense; I could see it in the way he held his shoulders. But what made it even worse was the way he continued to glare at me with undisguised contempt. And it was that single look that ignited an anger in me that I didn't know I was capable of.

"Was that you back at the lake?" I snapped instead of answering. "Was it you who pulled me from the boat and tried to drown me?"

He shrugged nonchalantly and said with decidedly detached calm, "I saw a threat and took the necessary precautions." I sensed his frown deepen. "Now, why are you here?" he repeated, this time with an edge of irritation to his rising voice.

I swallowed hard. How could he talk so callously about taking a life? Especially when that life in question was mine? I tenderly touched the place on my neck where his hands had been. Maybe I had made a terrible mistake in coming here.

"I had to see you," I said softly, looking down at my hands. This wasn't at all how I imagined it would be.

He scoffed. "And where is your young man, Christine? Should I be expecting him as well?"

Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes.

"No, I came alone. I—"

"You were wrong to come back."

My head flew up. "But Erik—"

"It's late," he interjected, holding up a hand to silence my protests. "You may stay here for tonight, but in the morning you need to return to your Vicomte."

My mouth fell open at his harshness. He didn't stay long enough to notice the hurt and pained surprise on my face. He spun around and walked out the door without a backward glance.

I crumpled into a heap and buried my face in the pillow, clutching the blanket tightly to my chest as I sobbed. What had I come back here? What had made me think that Erik would welcome me with open arms? All this time I had kept myself alive with the memory of his kiss, the hope that I could experience that warm embrace once again and that everything would turn out all right. I was so sure that he had felt the same way, that he loved me. But now, staring at the closed door in that dim little room, I was beginning to wonder how I could have been so naïve. I never even stopped to consider that maybe the kiss between us had shown Erik that he wasn't missing out on anything after all, and that maybe I wasn't the one who he wanted to devote his love and affection to.

How could I be so selfish? I'd played with his heart, strung him along with my cowardly indecisiveness. Why should I expect him to fall at my feet after everything I had put him through?

And Raoul! Poor Raoul. By now he had no doubt discovered I was missing, and just imagining the pain and the panic he was experiencing was enough to tear a hole in my already ravaged heart. He would never forgive me once he learned what I had done. How could he? My depression over losing Erik had made it exceptionally clear to Raoul that I didn't want to be with him. Why should he take me back?

I cared about both men, each in their own special way. But because of my reluctance to choose one over the other, I had lost them both. And no amount of feeling sorry for myself was going to change that simple fact.

I couldn't sleep. Not after everything that had happened. No matter how much I tossed and turned, or how hard I tried to convince myself that not sleeping would further endanger my already waning health, the blissful state of forgetfulness would not come. As I lay there, staring into the darkness for what seemed an eternity, I agonized over what I would do and where I would go next.

I could always return to my flat, I supposed. Returning to the Opera was out of the question. I wouldn't be able to set foot in the building, much less sing without thinking of Erik and his cold rejection of me. But perhaps I could find work as a seamstress or a cook. Though I possessed neither of those skills, I was confident in my ability to learn. If I hoped to eat and support myself I would have to do something.

The sound of shuffling in the next room caught my attention and I went rigid, straining to hear any other signs that Erik might be close by. My heart began to pound rapidly as I waited for him to appear and put an end to the tension between us. A minute passed, then two.

_He isn't coming_, I realized with immense disappointment.

This was getting ridiculous. I couldn't just sit in here, hoping that every creak, every footstep I heard was him changing his mind and that any second now he would burst through that door and take me into his arms, accepting my apology and the love I had to give. If there was one thing I knew about Erik, it was that once he had set his mind on something, nothing was going to change it. He had made that perfectly clear that night he sent me away with Raoul.

Bitterness settled over me as my emotions waged war against each other. I never wanted to go with Raoul. I should never have left with him. But I was tired of fighting, hurt from Erik's dismissal, and confused about what I wanted. I had been afraid to stand up to Erik that night, and my cowardice may have cost me the love of the man I'd repeatedly pushed away.

I had to try, one last time, to tell him how I felt. Then if he rejected me even still, at least I would know and be able to move on. I wouldn't be happy, but I would be free. With this new resolution in my head, I threw back the covers and set my feet gingerly on the ice cold floor beneath me. My legs were weak from disuse, but after a few moments I was able to maintain my balance and carefully found my way to the door. A thin sliver of amber light shone through the crack, confirming my suspicions that Erik was indeed in the room just beyond. My heart firmly planted in my throat, I pushed the door open and walked through it.

The candlelight, far brighter than my eyes were accustomed to, blinded me the moment I set foot in the living room and so I couldn't see immediately if Erik was even still there. Using my forearm, I shielded my eyes so that they might have time to adjust, and warily looked around. He was sitting at the organ, furiously scribbling notes down on paper lined with musical staves. He was in his shirtsleeves, the top button of his collar undone.

"E-Erik?" My voice cracked and I immediately regretted how timid I sounded.

He turned slowly, the eyes behind the mask coldly displaying his annoyance at being interrupted.

"You really should be resting Christine," he said icily. "What is it that you want?"

To my horror, my mouth went completely dry and I was left standing before him, gaping like a fish as I struggled to put the words into place.

"If you have come to discuss your presence in my house and perhaps change my mind about my decision, rest assured that I am through talking about it. You are wasting your breath."

"Erik, please—"

"No, Christine." He rose and placed his hands on the side of the organ. "Now go to bed."

"No!" I asserted. He looked at me then as though he could not believe that I would be so reckless as to contradict him, and my resolve wavered a little bit. "I-I won't. Not until you hear what I have to say."

In an instant he had stepped around the piano bench and had my arm in a vice-like grip. "I do not care to hear what you have to say. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie."

He started to drag me out of the room, but I dug my heels into the Persian rug and refused to move. I could be obstinate as well. When it was clear that I intended to put up a fight, he rounded on me with barely contained rage.

"Do not toy with me, Christine," he warned. "You should know by now that I am not a man who likes to be angered."

Inside I was quaking with fear; it was remarkable that I managed to present a collected demeanor on the outside. "I know that you are a man I have come to care for very much. Why do you think I came all the way back here?"

"Once upon a time, I might have believed that. But you have taken that trust and twisted it into something unrecognizable."

Despite my best efforts, tears pricked at my eyes. I blinked to hold them off but it was too late. Erik had already noticed.

"I see I've hurt you," he said in a low, almost feral tone. "Well know that what you are feeling now cannot even begin to compare to what you've inflicted upon me."

"I didn't mean to hurt you!" I cried, tears now streaming freely down my cheeks.

"Didn't mean to?" He latched on to my other arm with his left hand and pushed me back against the wall as he roared, "You left me! Tell me that you were thinking about me when you made that decision! You weren't. You were thinking about that damned boy!" His anger was swift and rapidly spiraling out of control. "So I gave you what you wanted, I let you leave with him, free to live out the remainder of your life in happiness."

I was sobbing uncontrollably now, but still he did not loosen his grip on me.

"Any yet the pain you exacted on me was not enough, was it? No, you insisted on coming back here to…to what? Were you hoping to taunt me again? To see me beg for your love? Because I will not! I refuse to fall prey to your games again. I do not want you, Christine. Not anymore."

He let go of me abruptly and I stumbled.

"Please," I implored, straightening so that I could look beseechingly into his eyes. "Please, Erik. Forgive me. I-I didn't know what I wanted then."

He halted in his retreat and turned slightly.

"Oh, and I suppose you know what you want now?" His voice was coarse, his every intention to mock my sincerity. I couldn't say that I blamed him after what I had put him through.

"I want you."

A low chuckle was his only answer, its intonation so sinister and dangerous, so completely unnerving that I began to think that perhaps I _had_ gone too far. He pivoted around to face me fully and began advancing with deliberate, dreadful steps. I tried to back away from him but soon enough my back met with the very wall I had just been pressed up against. My heart rose into my throat as he continued toward me.

With exaggerated calm he rested his hands flat against the wall on the outside of each of my shoulders, trapping me within the circle of his arms, and brought his face down to mine. His amber eyes bore into me, threatening me to make a move, and when I didn't he angled his chin so that his mouth brushed up against my ear. His breath shot waves of fear mixed with exhilaration down my neck and arms, making my skin tingle and rise with gooseflesh.

"You do not want my love," he whispered, "for it burns. It consumes with a passion so intense that once I am through there will be nothing left of you."

I swallowed twice in a vain attempt to fill my lungs with air. This close, I could smell the faint scent of spices that lingered on his skin. The masculine aroma permeated my nostrils, making my head spin. I longed to reach out to him, wanted him to touch me. It surprised me a little that my reaction was so visceral, especially where I had no experience in such matters. But apprehension had frozen me to the spot and despite my best efforts to regain control of myself, I could not move.

He exhaled a long breath, trailing it across my chin as he moved to look at me fully. His strange, golden eyes had taken on a predatory glow and I had no doubts about the fire of which he spoke. His gazed dropped to my lips and I held my breath with anticipation.

He withdrew unexpectedly and stepped back, tugging at the bottom of his shirt to straighten it. I reeled, unable to cope with the sudden shift in his demeanor. An aching throb of desire settled into the pit of my stomach, insistent in its demands to be fulfilled.

"I suggest," he said in a slightly strangled voice," that you think long and hard about what it is exactly that you want."

With that, he spun around on his heel and left me standing in the living room alone. The door to his bedroom shut and only after hearing the snick of his lock did I allow myself to breathe. I slid down the length of the wall, my entire body shaking, and buried my face in my hands. My chest felt as if it would explode from the onslaught of my heartbeat, but I knew.

I knew what I had to do.

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**A/N: **So now that this chapter is over, I'm really at a loss as to where to take the story as far as conflict goes. Normally I'm very good at devising twisted plotlines, but I'm afraid of this story sinking into inactivity once again. For that reason, I'm asking you, the readers, to share some of your thoughts and ideas of what you might like to see happen. You can discuss them with me here by PM, in a review, or on my website at www(dot)jamiepage19(dot)com. I would love to hear what you have to say!

Hope you enjoyed this installment! Help me keep it going! ~J


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